No Escape
by MoonytheMarauder1
Summary: It's 1980, and tensions are running high. Everyone suspects the other of betrayal, but Remus just wishes it hadn't ruined things between Sirius and himself. Wolfstar, Warnings for unfaithful partner.


**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for THC. **

**Word Count: 1190**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Those rights go to JK Rowling.**

**THC: House: Slytherin**

**Class: Care of Magical Creatures**

**Category: Standard**

**Prompt: (emotion) heartbreak **

**WARNINGS: Major angst, unfaithful partner**

**Enjoy!**

He was cleaning. He didn't know what else to do, so he was cleaning.

He relished the mindlessness of it. Scrubbing, washing, drying, polishing—he did it all, because the ache in his hands, arms, back, and shoulders was preferable to the pain he felt whenever he stopped long enough to think.

James shoved his head through the Floo, sometimes, to check in. He'd ask how things were, if the wards were up to date, how Sirius was because he was never in the office anymore. Remus could answer every question, but his responses were rarely truthful.

He ignored that he was alone in the flat he shared with his boyfriend all day. He pretended not to realize when hours passed as he laid awake in bed at night, waiting for his lover to join him—though Sirius never did.

Nights were torturously long, days were even longer, and Remus really wasn't sure why he was still waiting, why he was keeping this secret, why he was doing _any_ of it. It hurt so much, he knew that he had to stop thinking if he didn't want to fall down the rabbit hole of regret.

So he cleaned and cooked, looked for work and burned rejection letters, woke up early and pretended to sleep at night.

Sometimes, he tried to excuse Sirius' behavior. There was a war going on, he reasoned. Sirius was suspicious of everyone, and this was his way of blowing off steam. It didn't mean he loved Remus any less, or that Remus was the one he thought to be the spy.

He ignored the voice in his head that called him a coward for not confronting his boyfriend about his behavior. He ignored the voice in his head telling him to sever ties and just _leave_, leave the city, the country, the continent—anything to get away from this oppressive pain.

Remus hated himself for it, but he stayed. Every time, he stayed.

One night, he was doing the dishes (the Muggle way; it relaxed him, though it wasn't helping much tonight) after eating dinner alone. He was just finishing the plate when the door opened, much earlier than usual.

It was the oddest, most terrifying feeling, but his heart at once sank and rose.

Grey eyes locked onto amber, and then a low, rumbling voice broke the silence.

"Moony."

It was just a simple word, but it evoked so much emotion in Remus that he thought his knees would buckle then and there. There was anger, relief, betrayal, hope, pain, and, the most horrible of all, love.

But he pushed the storm beneath the surface. "Padfoot." He tried to smile. "You're home earlier than usual."

Sirius shrugged and hung up his cloak, his movements sluggish; he was drunk, then. Remus bit back a sigh of disappointment. Still, he cleared his throat and tried to make this a _normal night_.

"There are leftovers in the fridge," Remus said. "I just ate, but I can heat some up for you—"

"I ate already," Sirius said shortly. "Listen, Moony, I'm knackered. Come to bed when you're ready, yeah?"

He ran his hand through his raven hair, and Remus watched him go despondently. Once he heard their bedroom door click closed, Remus slumped forwards, bracing himself on the kitchen sink. This close to the full moon, his senses were heightened. He could smell alcohol and someone else's cologne on Sirius.

When the man did come home, it was _always_ smelling like someone most definitely not Remus. Sometimes it was cologne, sometimes it was perfume. Both instances stung just as much.

Amber eyes squeezed tightly shut as tears pricked at the corners. It was so hard to love someone but know that it wasn't wholly requited. Remus wondered if he would rather live like this, or not have Sirius at all. Both thoughts made him miserable.

He looked at the scars on his hands and reminded himself that, though the situation was hardly ideal, Sirius was the only one who knew exactly what he was and still wanted to sleep in the same bed as him.

It wasn't much, but it was something.

Remus shakily finished the dishes, then walked into the bedroom. He didn't bother taking a shower—he'd take one in the morning, even if Sirius took all the hot water—and instead pulled on a nightshirt and climbed into bed.

After listening for a moment, Remus deduced by his boyfriend's breathing that Sirius wasn't asleep quite yet. Remus rolled over on his side and, ignoring the scent of another man still clinging to Sirius' skin, draped an arm over the older man.

"We're going out to dinner tomorrow night," he reminded gently. "Can you try to come home from work a bit earlier than usual?"

"Oh." Sirius glanced Remus' way. "Sorry, love, but I have to cancel. I volunteered for some Order work."

Remus stared at him in disbelief. "Padfoot…" He swallowed. "Can you reconsider? We haven't been on a date in ages, and we've been planning this one for a long time. It's important to me." His voice cracked.

Sirius sighed heavily, and Remus knew that he couldn't win this battle. He couldn't win any of them, anymore. "I'm sorry, Moons, but the war's rather more important than a dinner, wouldn't you say?"

It came out waspishly, perhaps more so than Sirius intended. Nevertheless, Remus drew his arm back. "Will you at least tell me where you're going?" he demanded, despite the exhaustion coloring his tone.

Sirius looked away. "I don't think that would be wise. There's a traitor, and all."

Remus sucked in a breath. "Don't you trust me?" _Don't you love me?_

Sirius merely pulled the duvet up to his chin and didn't respond. Right then and there, Remus felt his heart broke.

"Right," he said softly. He climbed off the bed, cringing when Sirius didn't even turn around. Remus grabbed a spare blanket and walked towards the door. "I'll kip on the sofa tonight," he said dully, the pain in his chest excruciating.

Sirius still said nothing.

Remus opened the bedroom door, then half-turned towards the man occupying his bed. "I know what you've been doing. I know that you know I'm aware of it. And the fact that you want me to know… hurts more than the fact that you did it at all."

There it was; Sirius was sitting up, a faint trace of guilt on his face, but not enough to make Remus stay in the room. "Remus…"

Remus shook his head. "I'm not leaving, but… but I should be." He locked eyes with the other man. "You know that I should be, and I hate myself for not being strong enough to do it."

He left before Sirius could respond and heading into the sitting room, then grabbed some Floo powder. Forget the sofa; he was going to Frank and Alice's because Merlin knew he couldn't stay in the flat a moment longer.

He knew he'd be back, no matter how much it hurt, but for the moment he could pretend that he was free of this heartache.

He'd gotten quite good at pretending.


End file.
